


Hail Those Left Behind

by Hazel_Athena



Series: Mag7Week [8]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, Ensemble Cast, Found Families, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-04 06:22:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12163269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazel_Athena/pseuds/Hazel_Athena
Summary: Vasquez frowns now, as if he's just thought of something he doesn't much care for. "Is this why you've been so difficult lately? All your picking and prodding - always being in things you should not - was it you trying to create a reason for us to leave you behind?"





	Hail Those Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Families" prompt for Mag7Week.

It starts with his father, who packs up and gets the hell out of town when Faraday's no more than four. The man is a half remembered shadow at the best of times, he'd been loud, Faraday knows that much, possibly even dangerously so, but one of the few clear memories Faraday has of him is standing silhouetted in the doorway of the tiny shack their family had called home as he'd prepared to leave. He'd slung a bag over his shoulder, angrily shouting back how they weren't his problem anymore while Faraday's mother had yelled at him for abandoning her and the three children they'd set out to raise.

"The little one’s the only issue you're gonna have anyway," his father had snapped, and Faraday, the youngest of the lot by a wide margin, had slunk back against the door he was hiding behind, knowing full well those words were referring to him. "Andrew and Daniel are old enough to help themselves."

His mother had railed at him, her angry words inevitably giving way to vicious tears and finally the insistence that 'fine, we'll be better off without you!', when her pleas had done nothing to change her husband's mind. 

Faraday hadn't gone to comfort her while she'd cried. He'd been too afraid his presence would only make things worse.

*****

His mother goes next, and at least in her defence leaving him isn't her choice. She gets sick is all, the way so many do, especially the poor and overworked that have too much on their plate and not enough help at their backs. He's all of eight when she passes, still far too young to be out on his own, and the last thing she ever does is tell his older brothers to look after him. 

Andrew and Daniel, eight and six years his seniors respectively, share a look over her rapidly cooling body. Their grief is as sharp as Faraday's own, but also weighted with a taint of responsibility that his doesn't carry. He'll often wonder later if they resented him for that.

*****

A little over two years go by before his brother's leave too. They try to find enough work in town to keep the three of them afloat - Andrew in particular is practically an adult now, and both able and willing to do what comes his way - but the jobs just aren't there. Try as they might, there isn't enough money or food to go around.

In the end they leave him with an older couple who have a small farm on the edge of town. Their plan is to travel to try and find work, either on the railway or maybe in a mining camp somewhere, but if that's going to succeed they can't have Faraday dragging them down. He's small for his age at this point, won't reach his final impressive physical stature until later than most, and they're both convinced he'll only be in the way of what they're trying to do.

"He's awful scrawny," the husband says dubiously when the three of them show up on his doorstep, Faraday clutching a small bag of his meager possessions to his chest, while Andrew and Daniel flank him on either side. "I don't know how much use to me he's going to be."

"He's a quick learner," Daniel, always the gentler of the two says quietly, "and he can help out around inside the house if it comes to it."

The farmer, MacAskill is his name, still looks unconvinced until Andrew steps forward. "We'll keep our end of the bargain and send you money like we promised."

"Hmph," MacAskill had grumped. "I suppose there is that, but see that you do. I ain't runnin' a halfway house here. He works to earn his keep, _and_ you boys pay the rest of his board. Otherwise you can find somebody else to take him."

Andrew's sole response is a nod and the offer of his hand for MacAskill to shake. To Faraday he gives another nod, and a quiet admonishment to behave. There's no indication he has any intention of saying anything more and he stomps off the steps in silence.

Daniel drops down to one knee before following. He rests a hand briefly on Faraday's shoulder, and like Andrew tells him to be good. "You can't come with us," he says when Faraday opens his mouth to make the same protest he has since he was first told what was going to happen. "Josh, this is for the best, and it's our only fuckin' option to boot. You get that, right?"

Since he doesn't see another choice, Faraday nods, and this is when he first accepts the fact that he's destined to always be left behind.

*****

MacAskill and his wife hold onto him for just under three years, during which Faraday doesn't grow much and isn't overly useful out in the fields, but does display a knack for handling horses that the farmer seems grudgingly impressed by. Tending to the two MacKaskill keeps on hand to help till the fields becomes Faraday's main task, and the rest of his time gets eaten up doing chores in the barn or inside the house.

It's hardly an ideal existence and it certainly isn't a loving one, but it does keep him from having to beg for scraps in the street. It means he gets to grow old enough to at least stand a chance once he's forced to move on again, this time with the beginnings of a trade under his belt from working with the horses.

Even with that, though, it's still too soon before he's out again. True to their word his brothers send money for his upkeep when they first head off. Initially it comes fairly regularly and is accompanied by a letter telling him what they've been doing, but then it comes more and more sporadically until it dries up altogether. By the time MacAskill decides enough is enough, it's been six months with no word from either of them, and Faraday's wise enough to read the writing on the wall.

He's been ready to go for days by the time the man comes to him, and has only stuck around this long because it'd be stupid to jump into the unknown any earlier than he has to. There's a bag of provisions stashed away near the pallet where he sleeps, and he doesn't make a fuss when MacAskill haltingly tells him that there just isn't enough work for them to afford to keep him around any longer.

Faraday shrugs and says little, except that he understands. He leaves without much of a goodbye, and refuses to say thank you at all. It's clear to him now why he's always getting tossed aside. He's worth keeping around only as long as he's useful, and he owes no one any thanks if they're putting up with him simply for that.

*****

If Faraday were a wiser sort of person he'd have tried to find work in town once the MacAskills were done with him. The open road was no place for a loan traveler at the best of times, especially one not quite yet thirteen and with little means to support himself. However, there are two reasons why he doesn't.

The first is that there's nothing left for him there but poor luck and unpleasant memories. He's been cast aside one too many times for the place to ever feel like home again, so even if he could find somewhere new to take him on, he doesn’t think he’d want it.

The second is lying buried at the bottom of his pack; sleek, deadly, and well cared for despite the fact that MacAskill never seemed to take it out to use it. Faraday's known how to shoot since before his brothers left, and he's not stupid enough to think he won't need some way to defend himself while living in the brush. Knowing full well he'll never be able to afford a weapon on his own, he improvises.

He names the gun Ethel after MacAskill’s wife, and hopes she treats him a fair sight better than her namesake had.

*****

From then on Faraday ekes out a living as best as he's able. He wanders from town to town, working when he can find it, and doing his best to make his rations last as long as possible when he can't. More than once he goes hungry, but it seems as if he might have at least a touch of the fabled luck of the Irish because he always seems to land on his feet no matter how bad the circumstances.

One stroke of good fortune, for instance, is the time he arrives in a town less than twenty four hours after the local saloon owner's hired help breaks his leg falling out of a barn loft. The lad will be out of commission for a minimum of six weeks by the doctor's reckoning, a fact that makes his employer willing to use Faraday in his stead until he's well again.

"But it's just until Angus can come back to work," the saloon owner tells him sternly. He's a large man somewhat on the haggard side, but even his no nonsense attitude doesn't stop him from being one of the kinder folks Faraday's dealt with in recent years. "He's worked here for goin' on two years now, and I plan to do right by him when he's ready to come back. I won't need you both."

Faraday shrugs, unconcerned. It's been three years since his acceptance of the fact that he's only welcome somewhere as long as he's useful. With that knowledge secure in his mind, he'd been fully prepared to scram as soon as he was told, so the saloon owner's position comes as no surprise to him.

He does as good a job as he can, and puts aside as much money as possible since he knows he'll likely have to make it stretch much further than it should. At the same time, he picks up a new talent he isn't expecting.

Even at sixteen, Faraday's still a scrawny thing. He's starting to sprout up a bit, but a mixture of poor nutrition and being a late bloomer see him still smaller than most and often under estimated. This comes in handy when a bunch of the local old fellas decide it'll be funny to teach the runt in their midst a couple of card tricks.

No one's expecting him to be any good at it, leastways Faraday himself, but it's a decent way to pass a long evening, so when he's not serving them drinks Faraday's sitting beside them avidly soaking up a new craft. By the time he moves on again, he's better than most of those who'd first taught him and fully intends to keep practicing so he can put his newfound skills to good use.

And practice them, he does, all of his trades. By the time Faraday turns twenty you'll be hard pressed to find someone better at slight of hand than he is, nor someone who can outshoot him. Add that all together with the way he'd sprouted up a couple years previously, going from a mere runt of a thing to a bear of a man instead, and you had a born survivor where once only the weakest link could be found.

He keeps up his skill with horses too - often times finding work as an occasional ranch hand when funds get particularly tight - and on one memorable day combines all three of his so-called trades to get his hands on a half-mad creature whose owner had been considering putting him down since taming him didn't seem to be working.

Faraday names the horse Jack, deciding it's a good serviceable name for an animal who hates everything on god's earth that moves except him. Against all odds Jack appears to reach the conclusion that Faraday is worthy of his affection, and only bites him three times before settling into a working partnership.

Not that he'll ever admit it, but Faraday damn likes having the horse around when he's aching for company.

*****

He's not surprised when Sam Chisolm asks him to tag along on his suicide run. The quick way Faraday'd handled himself in the saloon would've made him stand out to the bounty hunter, inadvertently showcasing talents that the older man can make use of. It's always comes down to that in the end, Faraday's welcome to stay with folks as long as they can get something from him, and right now Chisolm needs more help than most.

He'd likely have said yes to the job for no other reason than it'd give him something to do, but then Chisolm sweetens the deal by buying Jack off the goddamned leprechaun before Faraday has a chance to do it himself. There's no way in hell Faraday's losing the one constant companion he's got, so he's in twofold at that point. 

Because he's in all the way, he doesn't complain about having to take on the role of errand boy when Chisolm determines they need to up their fire power. He takes Emma Cullen's squirrelly sidekick and he rides off in search of Goodnight Robicheaux. Finding both him and his knife-wielding counterpart, Faraday returns with two for the price of one just in time to come face to face with an irate Mexican outlaw who Chisolm has somehow coaxed out of the brush.

Vasquez doesn't think much of him, the way he mutters various Spanish oaths under his breath and scowls darkly makes that obvious, but he falls into step beside Faraday when they hit the trail and they wind up talking to each other more than they do the rest of the crew. It’s odd, having someone appear to take an interest in him after so long on his own, but not altogether unpleasant.

*****

Faraday's a little surprised when Vasquez shoves him onto the nearest available bed their first night in town and then climbs in after him. 

"Didn't realize you'd taken such a shine to me, muchacho," he mutters in between bruising kisses, gasping as Vasquez crawls between the spread of his legs and grinds down forcibly. "Not that I blame you, of course, I am quite the specimen."

"Do you ever stop talking?" Vasquez complains. He tears at the buttons of Faraday's vest, and once that's out of the way shoves at his shirt until it's rucked up under his armpits, leaving most of his torso open and available to play with. 

"Oh, yes," Vasquez practically purrs. "You will do nicely."

"Happy to help," Faraday grumbles, or tries to rather. Vasquez chooses now to work his trousers open, and the feel of his calloused hand wrapping around Faraday's dick has the words coming out far more breathless than he'd care to admit. 

Vasquez brings him off with a combination of mouth and fingers, not stopping until Faraday's a writhing mess on the bed who can barely remember his own name. Then he strips them both down completely and seemingly pulls a bottle of slick out of thin air.

"Yes?" He asks then, surprisingly shy for a man who'd made no bones about turning Faraday into a virtual puddle of a man without so much as a by your leave. 

"Y-yeah," Faraday gasps, still coming down from the high of his first orgasm. "Do your worst, hombre."

Because it has to be a challenge, Faraday thinks as he finds himself pressed face first into the mattress while Vasquez fucks into him from behind. The man is surprisingly thorough, paying attention as much to Faraday's needs as his own, but it still comes down to use in the end. Vasquez wants something he can't get from anybody else - not from the rest of the crew with their differences and not from the townspeople who all look at them in fear - so Faraday's his only option.

It's an idea Faraday embraces whole heartedly, not just that first night, but every night in Rose Creek that follows. They're likely to die in a week's time, so why shouldn't he take the spectacular sex that's on offer while he can? Especially when it's with someone he can't help but find himself liking.

"You look troubled, cariño," Vasquez tells him the night before Bart Bogue and his army of lawless rabble are set to come calling. He props his chin on Faraday's chest and looks up at him, apparently unconcerned by the sweat that's rapidly cooling on both their bodies. "Can't sleep?"

"There's a whole horde of rabid folks on their way to do us harm," Faraday reminds him. "Can you?"

Vasquez shrugs and shifts up to drop a kiss into the hollow of Faraday's throat. "There are worse ways to die than fighting for those who can't defend themselves, especially when doing it in company you enjoy."

"You sound like Horne," Faraday grumbles, and Vasquez nips his jaw sharply in reprimand.

"Why are you always so difficult, mijo?" He asks. "Maybe, you don't know, maybe we all walk out of this alive. Maybe we'll be right back in this bed tomorrow night, celebrating that we won."

Faraday snorts, but doesn't protest when Vasquez shoves at him until he can curl up behind him with an arm slung over Faraday's waist. "You're livin' in a dream world if you really believe that."

Warm breath gusts over the back of Faraday's neck as Vasquez sighs deeply. "We'll see," he says simply, and Faraday doesn't have the heart to tell him that live or die it won't matter in the long run. He'll grow tired of Faraday the same way everyone else always has, and that'll be the end of it.

*****

Faraday's not surprised to find the others have waited for him to wake up after the battle for Rose Creek, but only because he's too busy being surprised to wake up at all. His last memory had been of tossing a stick of loaded dynamite at a weapon sent to kill them all, and he'd fully expected that to be the end of him. Couple this together with the never ending sensations of pain, pain, and more _pain_ , and he thinks he can be forgiven for failing to register that he's yet to be abandoned right away for once.

By the time he's able to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time, he's simultaneously provided with an explanation. 

"You need to get well, querido," Vasquez tells him softly one day while he runs a damp cloth over Faraday's sweat-soaked forehead. The outlaw's one of the few people to have emerged relatively unscathed from the fight, and he seems determined to make up for this by being involved in all manner of setting the town to rights. When he's not located in Faraday's sickroom the odds are about even he can be found either working in the fields or on one the townsfolks' latest construction projects.

"You need to get better so people can thank you for what you did, and have you remember it," he adds when all Faraday can do is let out a pained grunt as he shifts and pulls at the stitching holding his guts together. Vasquez makes a soothing noise, keeping him in place with a gentle hand. 

It's as Vasquez continues prattling on about how Faraday needs to do this, that, and the other thing, that he realizes the answer to the question he never dared to ask. The reason why he hasn't yet been tossed out on his ass when he's got nothing left to contribute to the town of Rose Creek? It's debt, of course. He'd risked his damn neck to get these people their homes back, and that in turn had caused them to see fit to help him now.

It won't last, he knows this. Gratitude will only get him so far before it runs out, but until it does he's going to have to make as much use of it as possible. He's in no fit state to be looking after himself, battered and banged up as he is, so for now he has to rely on these people, no matter how poorly that sits with him.

*****

He's flat out flummoxed when he regains his health and Sam asks him to sign on as a full time member of his crew. Faraday's worked in groups before, although never for very long, and he sees nothing he can bring to the table that Sam can't already get from one of the remaining five. He doesn't stand out in a fight any more than they do, and Sam's already got enough people on board that Faraday's presence is redundant.

Still, Sam looks at him like he genuinely means his offer, and Faraday finds himself saying yes before he can think better of it. It won't last, he knows this. Either they'll figure out he's got nothing significant to contribute, or one of his more irksome personality traits will see him politely asked to part company, but until that happens he's got a place to call his own and he doesn't have it in him to pass that up.

"It will be good," Vasquez enthuses later when they've all retired to their rooms for the evening. He's straddling Faraday's waist, apparently having decided the fact that they'll be travelling together is sufficient reason to keep up _all_ aspects of their relationship, and moves to undo the buttons of his shirt as he keeps talking. "There are many benefits to travelling with men you trust; it reduces the number of other people who try to fuck with you for one."

"That why you agreed to sign on, muchacho?" Faraday asks. He momentarily props himself up on his hands, so Vasquez can shove the shirt over his shoulders and then lays down again as soon as he's free of it. Mostly healed though he is, he still tires easy and isn't above letting Vasquez do the bulk of the leg work. "You want us to keep you from losing that pretty head of yours?"

Vasquez pauses where he's moved on to opening the front of Faraday's trousers. "I want us all to keep from losing our heads, guerito. We're all of us marked men in some way or other, no?"

"Suppose that's true," Faraday admits, lifting his hips when Vasquez indicates he's ready. "I just don't know that it's going to take all seven of us to watch each other's backs."

Vasquez gives him a funny look before shrugging, and leaning forward to trace a line of kisses over Faraday's more vibrant scars. "Me, I think you could use the watching most of all, cariño," he murmurs right before he seals his lips over Faraday's, effectively cutting off the conversation and all rational thought at the same time.

Later, when Vasquez is a warm weight snoring contentedly at his side, Faraday stares up at the ceiling unable to follow him into slumber. 

*****

They're a couple months into Sam's proposed venture when Faraday's hit with the startling realization that he doesn't want it to end. The seven of them are clustered around a campfire, having just successfully completed a job in a town even smaller than Rose Creek, drinking and laughing, riding high on having food in their stomachs and the knowledge of a day’s work well done.

Vasquez is pressed up along his right side, occasionally burying the worst of his cackles in Faraday's shoulder as, across from them, Goody mimes out a story from the days he and Sam used to travel together.

"And then," the Cajun is saying now, "wouldn’t you believe it, but the damned lunatic looked me right in the eye and says 'It's only a fishing pole, Goody'!"

Five of them erupt into laughter, while Sam studiously takes a drink of whiskey and tries to pretend the whole thing isn't happening. "I'll remind you, Mr. Robicheaux," he says primly, "that it was _you_ who started the whole mess by trying to talk us out of it in the first place."

Rather than protest his innocence, Goody gives him a sheepish grin and miraculously says nothing further.

"Well, that proves it," Billy says when he sees this. "You know he's guilty if he shuts up when you point it out."

Goody sputters, spraying the nearby area with the gulp of whiskey he's just knocked back. "Et tu, cher?" He demands, shaking a wild finger in Billy's face. "I don't have to stand here and take this betrayal."

"Of course you don't," Billy shoots back. "That's why you're sitting down."

The hills echo with their collective laughter and Faraday has a sudden, sobering inkling of just how much he's going to miss this when he no longer has it. He quiets quicker than the others as the weight of this thought sinks in, and Vasquez shuts up second when he notices Faraday's gone silent.

"Why so quiet, guerito?" He asks under cover of the noise everyone else is making. He nudges Faraday with his shoulder when he doesn't answer. "Something wrong?"

"Nah," Faraday rushes to cover up whatever's showing on his face behind a drink. "Just a little parched, is all. Must be from all the hootin' and hollerin' we've been doing."

Vasquez eyes him for a couple of very long seconds before making a clear decision not to press and moving to swipe Faraday's flask out of his hand. "Share, guero. I'm all out."

"Get your own," Faraday grumbles, but Vasquez pouts at him, and Faraday's handing the flask over before he realizes it. "Make sure you leave me some," he grumbles to try and hide his embarrassment.

Surprisingly, Vasquez listens to his request, handing the flask back after only a few small sips. "You won't share again if I take it all," he says when Faraday eyes him suspiciously. 

"Right," Faraday says because of course it comes down to what he has to give. "Right."

Vasquez gives him a funny look, but just as obviously decides not to push. Instead, he leans in to brush their shoulders together, and focuses his attention back on the antics of their companions.

*****

It's at this point that Faraday realizes the extent of his problem, which is that he _wants_ to stay. He wants to keep these people, wants to be allowed to continue travelling with them, and he doesn't want to be alone again. The very thought of being on his own sets his gut churning, and sends him burrowing into Vasquez's side after the other man has fallen asleep more nights than not because it's the only time he can pretend he's not going to lose what he's managed to find.

The others will grow tired of him, that's the thing. Faraday can pretend otherwise and do his best to curb his more difficult behaviours as much as he wants, they _will_ reach a breaking point with him, and the he'll find himself alone out in the cold while the remaining six ride off secure in the knowledge that he's no longer their problem. That's what always happens, and try as he might, Faraday can't see a future where things turn out any different.

So he comes to a decision that, in hindsight, is the stupidest of all possible outcomes. He's not proud of it, but it's the only way out he sees. 

Initially, he thinks maybe he'll just up and leave on his own before the others have a chance to grow tired of him. That plan lasts all of two seconds before he realizes there's no way he's going to be able to force himself to leave without being ordered to. However, rather than drag things out as long as possible, he resolves to have the others see him at his worst and let nature take its course.

In short, he makes a damned nuisance of himself.

Goodnight's probably the easiest target, it takes virtually nothing for Faraday to get him riled up, and he has the added bonus of being two for the price of one. Pissing Goodnight off is a sure fire way to send Billy out for blood, and the knife wielder has taken to polishing his beloved hairpin right in front of him when Faraday's been particularly annoying.

Red's also pretty easy since invading his space, talking incessantly, or a combination of the two are all ways to get under his skin. Jack, likewise, the more vulgar and inappropriate Faraday is, the more disappointed the old hunter looks. Or, well, he starts off looking disappointed, but slips on over to frustrated the longer he goes on.

Faraday also doesn't stop by just picking at folks directly. He gambles more than he should, picks fights with strangers on days they stay in towns, and passes out drunk more nights than not. Then to top it all off, he shows very little interest in the jobs that come their way.

"You are acting this way on purpose," Vasquez remarks one night, and the words aren't a question but a certainty.

The two of them are seated a ways away from the evening’s campfire, Faraday having settled there on purpose, and Vasquez having wandered over when he'd made no move to budge. No one else seems interested in drawing Faraday out, but Vasquez is a stubborn sort. He seems determined to ride through whatever's gotten into Faraday of late, no matter that Faraday doesn't want him to.

It probably doesn't help that Faraday can't bring himself to pester Vasquez the way he has been the others. It's no secret that they prefer each other's company to that of anyone else, and Vasquez more than the rest is good at squirming his way through Faraday's defences.

"Don't know what you're talking about," Faraday says when the silence has stretched on long enough. He knocks back a shot of the whiskey in his hand, but makes no move to offer the flask up to Vasquez, choosing instead to stare straight ahead at the fire burning merrily in the distance.

"You do," Vasquez insists, letting out a sigh when Faraday says nothing further. "Fine, keep your secrets. You can tell me when you're ready."

Having absolutely no intention of taking him up on that offer, Faraday simply keeps staring at the fire.

*****

A few weeks go by, and finally Sam comes to him with a pinched look on his face. At first Faraday thinks this is it, that's he's done enough to be told to skedaddle, but Sam's never been one for doing what's expected of him, and he continues that trend now.

They're on the hunt for a decent sized bounty that should see them all sitting pretty for the foreseeable future if they can bring him in. The trail keeps going cold, however, the fellow making it as slippery as they come, and it turns out Sam wants a couple men to go investigate the last town he'd supposedly popped up in.

"Take Vasquez and go do some digging," Sam tells him. "Try not to draw too much attention to yourselves, but see if you can't figure out where he headed after he hit the road this time."

"You don't think there's a chance he's stuck around?" Faraday asks.

"Not if he's kept to the same method he's been using all along," is the reply. "Odds are good he's long gone at this point. I just want you two to see if maybe there might not be some pattern to where he goes."

Faraday eyes the older man in confusion. "Don't you figure Jack or Red might be better suited to this job?" Both he and Vasquez are good in a firefight, and Vasquez himself might admittedly have some thoughts on where a wanted man would consider putting his head down, but they're neither of them trackers.

Sam simply shrugs. "If we were talking about open terrain, yes, but this is a town, and neither of them is exactly suited for that kind of digging. Like I said, you and Vasquez can go in and see what you find, but make sure you watch each other's backs."

Vasquez snorts from where he's sitting nearby reclined back on a fallen tree stump as he waits for Goodnight to finish cooking supper. "Of course we will watch out for each other, Sam. You worry too much."

Goodnight grumbles something from where he's bent over the fire. Faraday thinks he catches his own name thrown into the mix, and Vasquez's eyes narrow as he says something snide sounding in Spanish.

"That's your prerogative," Goodnight grunts, holding his hands up to ward off further words. "Me, I don't envy you."

Faraday thinks about asking what they're talking about, but in the end decides against it, and Vasquez offers up no explanation when they're curled up on their bedrolls later that night.

*****

They set out early the next morning with Vasquez eager to get moving, and Faraday seeing no way not to humour him. The town they’re headed for isn't that far off, Sam's mainly sending them alone to avoid drawing too much attention, but it's still the better part of a day's ride away, meaning it'll be early evening by the time they get in.

For his part, Vasquez seems altogether pleased by this arrangement, rambling on happily about getting to sleep in a real bed and eat food prepared by someone who actually knows what they're doing. "It will be nice," he says as they plod along the dust riddled trail, their horses moving side by side as they go. "We will be able to work and relax at the same time."

"You saying you need a vacation there, hombre?" Faraday asks, and Vasquez gives him a look heavily doused in mirth.

"Not need, guero," he says with a laugh, "but who looks a gift horse in the mouth? Let the others camp out in the woods for a few more days if Sam wants. I'm not going to say no to a chance to do otherwise."

Faraday huffs out an answering laugh in spite of himself. "You do like your comfort, don't you, Vas?"

Vasquez shrugs, unashamed. "Doesn't everybody?"

Faraday nods his head in acknowledgement of the point, and they lapse back into silence as they continue on their way, staying like that until the roofs of the town come into view on the horizon.

"There you go, Vas," Faraday says, reigning Jack in as he inspects the sight up ahead. "Civilization. Though I gotta say, it don't look like much from here."

"Sí," Vasquez agrees, "but it will do." He casts a sideways glance in Faraday's direction, and when he speaks this time his voice is probing, almost tentative. "You've seemed like you could use a break this past little while."

Abruptly reminded that he's supposed to be following his plan, Faraday sits up straighter in the saddle. "Don't know what you're talking about," he says shortly, nudging Jack back into movement. "Come on, we're wasting time."

Vasquez sighs, but follows him without saying anything further. 

The town is small, and they make quick work of stabling their horses before finding a place to grab a bite to eat. Vasquez makes it clear he's not doing any work tonight, that he'd much rather start fresh in the morning, so they knock back a hot meal and shoot the shit with a few of the locals in the saloon before retiring to the nearby boarding house. 

Once they're settled in their room, Vasquez gives him a heat laden glance, and Faraday finds himself being pinned against the side of the door as he gets kissed for all he's worth. 

"So that's the real reason you were so excited about the bed, huh?" Faraday asks as Vasquez's nimble fingers work at the buttons of his vest. "What if I'm not in the mood?"

"Then you'll tell me, and we stop," Vasquez replies. He draws back just far enough to look Faraday in the eye. "Are we stopping?"

Faraday pretends to think about it for a second before laughing. "'Course not. Do your worst, muchacho."

Things devolve around that point, and they spill over onto the bed still pawing at each other's clothing. Then one thing leads to another, and by the time Faraday comes back to himself he's panting up at the ceiling while Vasquez leans over him with a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Feel better?" He asks, and there's something in his voice that makes Faraday's gut churn, shoving away the pleasant buzz he's got from a thorough fucking and replacing it with something more serious.

"Don't know what you're talking about," he mutters, rolling over onto his side because the way Vasquez is looking at him is making him uncomfortable.

He hears Vasquez sigh behind him, but rather than pull away like Faraday's expecting, the other man shuffles closer, and wraps an arm securely around his waist. “Ojalá me dijera lo que está mal,cariño," he murmurs quietly.

Since he can’t understand him, Faraday pretends not to hear him.

*****

Morning dawns bright and clear, and with Vasquez in a mood to get up and get some work done. "Breakfast now, and then we ask some questions," he says as he dresses while Faraday lazes around in bed. "Up, guero. We have things to do."

Faraday grunts at him, but allows himself to be prodded into movement after considerable energy is expended on Vasquez's part. Swatting him away, Faraday climbs to his feet and goes to dig some fresh clothes out of his pack. "I'm moving, damnit," he half snaps. "Calm down."

Vasquez makes a face at him. "You're grumpy today," he decides. "Come with me, breakfast will make you feel better."

Breakfast is ... fine, better than what they usually have out on the trail if he's being honest, but it does little to shake him out of the funk he's woken up in. Not caring that it's early in the morning, he snags a bottle of whiskey off the boarding house matron and pours himself a glass.

"You cannot be serious," Vasquez says where he's staring at Faraday over the lip of a cup of water. "Guero, we have work to do."

"So go do it," Faraday grumbles, feeling more and more out of sorts with each passing moment. "I'll join you when I'm ready."

"Not if you're drunk at nine o'clock in the morning, you won't," Vasquez scolds. "Joshua."

"Fine," Faraday doesn't quite snap. He knocks back the remainder of the glass he's just poured, but puts the stopper back in the bottle rather than getting another drink. "Happy now?"

Vasquez gives him a dark look, much of his earlier good humour fading. He opens his mouth, clearly about to say something scathing, and then apparently thinks better of it. His face smooths out and he stands up from the table, gesturing for Faraday to follow him.

The day, well, it passes. Faraday's mood doesn't improve, the strange feeling prodding at his shoulder blades intensifying rather than dissipating, and it makes him recalcitrant, snappish to the point that Vasquez is starting to get annoyed again.

"Guero," he grits out finally at a point about late-afternoon, "I do not know what your problem is, but would you please settle down? These people are not going to talk to us if you keep glaring at everyone we approach."

There's a part of Faraday that wants to apologize for this, but it's a testament to what a mess his head is that he winds up snarling instead. Bracing his shoulders, he glowers over at Vasquez and says, "If I'm such a goddamned useless nuisance, why don't I head back to the saloon, and you can do this by yourself?"

They're stopped in the middle of a thankfully mostly empty street, and Vasquez pulls himself up to his full height as he fixes Faraday with a glare. "I never said you were any of those things," he hisses, "though right now you are not far off. Why should you get to sit around doing nothing while I do the work Sam sent us both to do?"

"Well, you don't seem to much like how I'm going about it," Faraday points out snidely, his gut churning when Vasquez's eyes narrow even further. "If I'm not up to snuff, you may as well do it yourself."

"Ugh, hijo de puta," Vasquez practically throws his hands up in exasperation. "I do not understand why you're acting like this, but I want no part in it. If you're going to be this difficult to manage, and, yes, as you helpfully put it _useless_ , then you may as well go get drunk in the saloon. It is what you’re best at, after all. Just don't expect me to come find you if you do. I have better things to do with my time."

He follows this up with a string of Spanish that Faraday knows just enough of to be sure is derogatory. Then he gives Faraday one last glare before whirling around and stomping off in the opposite direction, no doubt to do exactly what he promised and gather the information they'd been sent after.

Faraday watches him go without a word. His gut is churning, and there's a desperate part of him that wants to follow, wants to chase Vasquez down and beg for forgiveness, beg to not be cast aside yet again. He doesn't, though, because after all, wasn't this what he'd been aiming for all along?

*****

Faraday should feel relieved. The worst has finally come to pass just as he's always known it would, so now he no longer has to worry about when it'll happen and can simply concentrate on moving on from here. Getting on with his life. That sort of thing.

Faraday should feel relieved, but he doesn't. Instead, all he feels is dread, like a heavy weight is holding him down, keeping him stuck in place until it inevitably suffocates him.

The thought of going upstairs to the room he and Vasquez have been sharing sits on him exactly like that weight. The very idea of possibly pushing the door open to find only his own belongings, no longer intermingled with that of his companion, the bed still neatly made rather than already containing the warm body he's so relished sleeping next to ... well. Needless to say none of the above sits easily with him.

That's probably why he waits as long as he does to turn in for the night. Oh, he tells himself it's because he wants some fun down in the saloon first. He pretends he wants to drink and gamble and joke with patrons and prostitutes alike. It's all a lie though, probably one of the worst ones he's ever told. Faraday may have spent his life casting smoke screens to hide how he feels and what he's thinking, but there are limits to this that even he can't push past.

Finally he has to face the inevitable. Not even a saloon as rough and tumble as the one he's been keeping company in stay open all night, meaning it's time he made himself scarce. 

The walk back to the boarding house, which had seemed overly long on his way over, now seems to be finished in the blink of an eye. One minute Faraday's stepping out of the saloon, the rickety wooden doors swinging shut behind him, and the next he's in front of the door to his rented room, eyeing it with as much trepidation as he had Bart Bogue's gatling gun.

Sternly reminding himself that he's solely the one to blame for his current circumstances, Faraday grasps the doorknob with more force than necessary, twisting it open in one jerky movement so as to no longer prolong the inevitable. Then he stares, rubs his eyes a little on the off chance that the whiskey he'd imbibed has had more of an effect on him than he'd realized, and stares some more.

There's a candle burning low in the lamp next to the bed. The wick receded enough that it's almost as if the person who'd lit it had been waiting for something before drifting off. More importantly, however, is the man lying sound asleep in his usual spot, tangled in the bedding and curled on his side as he breathes slowly in and out, his chest rising and falling with each small exhalation.

The faint light from the lamp casts a warm glow over Vasquez's body, making his tanned skin stand out starkly against the sheets. It washes over sculpted muscles, curving every which way as Faraday just stands gaping in the doorway, greedily drinking in a sight he's spent all night convincing himself he wouldn't get to see again. He doesn't know why Vasquez is still here. It doesn't make any sense.

Not wanting to wake the man, Faraday pads carefully into the room before gently closing the door behind him. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do now, but if nothing else his pack is still in this room and he needs to get it back.

Despite his best efforts, however, Vasquez stirs before Faraday's even halfway across the room. His waking is heralded by a sudden intake of breath, the same one that always signifies he’s shifting back into consciousness. The man has the oddest sleeping habits of any person Faraday's ever known.

"Guero?" Vasquez asks, voice thick with sleep. He squirms around until he can prop himself up on one elbow, peering at Faraday in the dim light. "You stayed away longer than I expected."

He sounds tentative in a way that Vasquez normally isn't, but even more confusing is the way his words imply he'd been waiting for Faraday to come back. That doesn't make a lick of sense, and Faraday finds himself saying so without conscious thought.

Vasquez's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and he suddenly looks a lot more alert than he had mere moments previously. "Your things are all in here, guero," he says slowly. "Of course you would be coming back."

"Right," Faraday acknowledges. He lets his gaze roam around the room, looking over his possessions because he doesn't feel up to meeting Vasquez's eye. "I knew that. I just figured you'd be long gone is all."

That makes Vasquez's eyebrows climb somehow impossibly higher. "The job's not done yet," he points out quietly; like there's something else entirely he'd rather say, but isn’t sure how to phrase it. "Sam would not be overly happy to receive only part of the information he sent us after."

"Oh." Faraday says, feeling somehow even stupider than before. He can't believe he'd forgotten about the job in all the other mess. Of course Vasquez wouldn't leave before finishing what he'd been sent to do. He's probably been waiting all night for Faraday to come get his things and be the one to leave. 

"Yeah, right. I'll just get my stuff and ..." Faraday flaps a hand in the direction of his pack to try and say - he doesn't even know what. "I only need a second, and then I'll be out of your hair."

"Out of my -?" Vasquez sits up all the way now, the blankets pooling around his lap as he stares at Faraday in confusion. "Guero, what are you talking about? It's the middle of the night. Come to bed."

That brings Faraday up short. He looks over at Vasquez, only to find the man staring back at him, his expression unreadable. Finding his voice, Faraday tries to pass things off lightly. "Well, I hardly think that's a good idea," he says. "The offer's kind and all, but I don't imagine you really want me anywhere near you."

Vasquez snorts, confusion giving way to what looks like mild exasperation. "Please, just because we quarreled earlier doesn't mean you have to go bunk with Jack. If that were the case you'd be sleeping with your mad horse every other night."

Faraday doesn't understand what's happening here. "You said -" He starts and fails to get the words out, inevitably being forced to try again. It doesn't work any better than it had the first time. "You said ... what you said earlier."

Now Vasquez looks contrite. "Sí, io se. Lo siento, querido. I said things I should not have."

"No," Faraday disagrees. Just because Vasquez's words had stung didn't mean they were wrong. There's a reason Faraday's been waiting for months to hear them. "It was - you've got a right to speak your mind. Besides," he adds, hunching further in on himself without meaning to, wishing like hell he wasn't being so obvious in his hurt. What in god's name is wrong with him? "It wasn't nothing I ain't heard before. Drunk and too difficult to manage, that's me."

He follows his words up with a laugh that sounds fake even to his own ears. "It's alright. I expected it, of course. You lot were only going to handle having the likes of me around for so long, and I suppose it was good while it lasted."

Too good, really. For once Faraday had managed to fall in with a crew who almost seemed like they could stomach him long term, and now that he's lost it that hurts even worse than expected. He needs to get out of this room, and he needs to do it now.

Suiting action to words, he reaches for his pack, pleased to note that his habit of always being ready to duck out of town at a moment's notice means his possessions are all safely stored away and he can just leave and be quick about it. His hand closes around one of the thick leather straps in anticipation of slinging the whole thing up over his shoulder, only to freeze when long fingers arrive to curl around his wrist. Faraday stares at them initially, not understanding their presence, and then follows them up until he locks gazes with a pair of worried brown eyes.

"Joshua," Vasquez says his use of Faraday's given name such that it sets warning bells ringing in the man's ears. "Exactly what do you think is happening here?"

Faraday shrugs. "You said get, so I'm going. Ain't gonna stress you out any more than I already have, I promise."

"Guerito," Vasquez slowly, "the only thing causing me stress right now is the thought that you're doing what I think you're trying to do, which is leave. For good. Why would you do that?"

"You said -" Faraday begins, only to have to duck his head away because he can't stand to look Vasquez in the face any longer. "It doesn't matter," he says instead, pulling his arm free of Vasquez's grasp. "I've been waiting for it from the get go, you don't have to worry. I know how to handle myself."

Vasquez snorts none too politely. "Clearly, you do not. What nonsense are you spouting now? What have you been waiting for?"

Faraday can't believe Vasquez is going to make him spell everything out, but if he is then he is. There's no real point in pretending he has any dignity left now. "For you lot to reach a breaking point. With me," he adds when Vasquez just keeps right on staring at him. "Like always happens."

 _That_ makes Vasquez move. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, his expression thunderous, though why Faraday hasn't the faintest idea. It's not as if this of all things should be what makes him angry again.

"You thought," he says furiously, only to stop and exhale deeply through his nose, like he can't fathom the depths of frustration Faraday sends him to. When he speaks again, his voice is tight. "Joshua. How long have you thought we would get rid of you once we'd grown tired of your behaviour?"

"Since Rose Creek," Faraday replies honestly, figuring it's not like he has anything else to lose. What little dignity he had left is long gone by now. "I don't even know why anyone asked me to come along once everybody was all healed up and the job was done."

Vasquez's entire body tenses, putting Faraday in mind of some kind of enraged animal that's just waiting for a throat to sink its teeth into. "Why," he demands harshly, "didn't you say anything?"

"Why should I?" Faraday demands hotly, his face burning now at the fact that Vasquez is making this conversation drag on so much longer than it has to. "What do you want me to say? That I didn't want any of it to end? That I wanted to make it last as long as I could, and that's why I tried my damnedest not to get on everyone's last nerve? Well I didn't and I did and I tried, but I ruined it all anyway just like I always figured I would! Are we done now?"

"Absolutely not," Vasquez snaps, his own eyes blazing. "We are not done until I say so, idiota!"

"Vas, for fuck's sakes," Faraday groans. He's so tired and everything is awful, why can't he just be left alone to lick his wounds in peace? "You want me gone, and I'm going, so let's just stop arguing about it all and get it over with. Christ!"

"Oyyyy, estupido - no! No, that is not going to work with you is it?" Whatever irate bellow Vasquez is thinking of making gets set aside in favour of him shifting his hands so that both of them are framing Faraday's face, holding him still and making it so he can't look anywhere but at the man across from him. 

"You are a foolish, foolish man, guerito," Vasquez tells him, and damnit if he doesn't look sad for some reason. "Where did you get the idea that we would turn you out for - for being you? Where did you get the idea that _I_ would do that?"

"S'what people do once I'm no use to 'em anymore," Faraday mutters uncomfortably. He tries to wriggle out of Vasquez's grip, but he'd have better luck of taking on another damned gat and walking away without a scratch. "Would you let up already? You're getting on my nerves, hombre."

"Your nerves are the least of my concerns, Joshua," Vasquez replies. "I'm much more worried about your brain, your impressively oblivious nature, and your general lack of common sense."

He frowns now, as if he's just thought of something he doesn't much care for. "Is this why you've been so difficult lately? All your picking and prodding - always being in things you should not - was it you trying to create a reason for us to leave you behind?"

Faraday closes his mouth with a snap, any protest he might have made dying in the face of Vasquez's impressive glower. Unbidden, he glances down at the toes of his boots because he can't handle looking at Vasquez's face anymore.

This works about as well as he'd expected, which is to say it doesn't work at all. When Faraday looks down, Vasquez hooks thumb and forefinger beneath his chin, forcing him right back up again. "Vas ... I."

“Eres muy estúpido y no sé por qué te amo," Vasquez says helpfully, rolling his eyes for added measure.

"Wazzat mean?" Faraday asks. He thinks he's just been insulted, but there's something in Vasquez's gaze that makes him wonder if maybe he's wrong. Wrong about more than one thing as it happens.

"I don't think you're capable of grasping it right now," Vasquez tells him. "Don't worry, I'll tell you some other time. And there will be another time," he says forcefully, patting Faraday's face less than gently. "Enough of this foolish leaving talk."

"But you said -!" Faraday protests, not one to let an idea go once it's taken hold of him.

Vasquez cuts him off with a kiss. "I said something unfair and inappropriate," he says when he pulls back, "something I should not have said to begin with, and something I would have all the more thought twice about if I'd known where your head was. I'm sorry, Joshua. Forgive me?"

He's trailing his fingers through Faraday's hair, occasionally digging into the scalp with the perfect amount of pressure, seemingly determined to transmit his affections through more than just words. Faraday has no idea what to do with it all.

"I mean," he says finally still more confused than anything, "yeah, sure, but why?"

"Why what? Why am I asking for forgiveness?" At Faraday's hesitant nod, Vasquez's expression darkens even as he reaches up to draw Faraday in close. "Because I did something that hurt you, querido, and that deserves penance."

"You're allowed to say how you feel, Vas," Faraday insists. He might not have liked hearing the words, but of that much he's certain.

"Well, in that case you should know I'm feeling sorry," Vasquez tells him. He cups the side of Faraday's face with a large hand, fingers stroking absently back and forth in a gentle caress. "And I wish I had known this was something you were concerned about."

Faraday shrugs then, unsure of what to do in the face of Vasquez's open affection. These past few minutes have left him feeling wrong-footed because this wasn't how such conversations were supposed to go. Not for him at any rate.

He rests his hands on Vasquez's hips, idly fiddling with the hem of the worn slacks he's seen fit to go to bed in. "So ... now what?"

"Now?" Vasquez echoes. "Now, we pretend to be civilized people and go to bed because it is a ridiculous hour to still be awake. Then tomorrow we get up, finish the job, and go back to our friends before you pick up more ridiculous notions and drag us into who knows what."

Faraday has to admit he likes the sound of that, but part of him is still convinced he's bound to wear out his welcome where the rest of their crew is concerned. However, Vasquez must sense this because he gives him a knowing look. "They're not going to get tired of you any more than I am, querido," he says, punctuating the line by grabbing one of Faraday's hands to press a kiss to the knuckles. "Family doesn't do that."

It's pure reflex that makes Faraday startle at the use of the word 'family', he swears. Vasquez can look at him all knowing like as much as he wants; he's not saying anything different.

"Guero," Vasquez chides when Faraday keeps stubbornly refusing to cave.

"Fine," Faraday huffs out. He tries to sound grudging but suspects he fails. "Ain't had much in the line of a family in a long time," he's forced to admit. "Except maybe Jack."

"Sí, it's the same for me," Vasquez replies. "Minus the horse, but it's good. That we have them, I mean, and that they have us. It works."

Faraday's willing to acknowledge that he'd rather have their crew around than not, but that does little to help him wrap his head around the idea that a belief he's held onto for nigh on twenty years might have been mistaken. "Are you sure?" He asks, hating that he can't manage to keep his voice from catching no matter how hard he tries.

To his credit Vasquez shows no signs of exasperation at Faraday's hesitance. "Sí. I'm sure. Now, come to bed. It's late."

Somehow, he's not quite sure how, is maybe in something of a daze to keep from figuring it out, Faraday finds himself divested of everything but his underclothes and unceremoniously bundled into bed. By the time he realizes he's moving, he's stretched out lengthwise half beside Vasquez and half on top of him with his head tucked up underneath the other man's chin, and a heavy hand spanning over his back. They don't usually sleep quite so wrapped up in each other, but it's possible Vasquez is making a point.

"You need to learn to speak up when you're worried about something, guerito," Vasquez murmurs in the darkness. He sounds sad again, maybe even a little guilty, and his fingers trail over Faraday's skin in a way that's probably meant to be apologetic. "Any one of us would have set you straight if we'd known this was what you were thinking."

Faraday huffs but doesn't answer. He's not sure how to explain to Vasquez that he hadn't been worried per se. Worried implied he was afraid something was going to happen and didn't want it to. Faraday hadn't been afraid of losing the others; he'd been certain he would and dreading how soon it would happen. The two aren't the same thing, but he doesn't know how to make Vasquez understand.

"Folks always leave," he says, remembering his father, his brothers, and his mother, not to mention everyone else who'd followed in their wake. Once a man got left behind enough times he started to figure he was the root of the problem and that was just how it is. "It's like a pattern or some shit."

Vasquez's fingers still for a moment before starting back up again. "It sounds like you need a new pattern," he says simply, as if it were that easy. "Don't worry," he adds, almost like he can sense the skepticism coursing its way along Faraday's body, "I'll help you make one."

He presses a kiss to the top of Faraday's head like he's done a hundred times before, murmuring something low in Spanish that Faraday doesn't have a hope in hell of understanding.

"What was that?" Faraday asks anyway, wanting to know regardless.

"Nothing," Vasquez tells him. "I'll tell you when I think you're ready to hear it. For now, though, sleep. It is far far too late to still be awake, and we need rest. I want to finish the job tomorrow, so we can get out of here and go home."

 _Home_ , Faraday thinks. That's not a concept he's known since shortly after he was big enough to stop hiding behind his Mama's skirts. Up until now he'd never thought he'd have one again. It also hadn't ever occurred to him that home could mean people instead of a place.

"I like the sound of that," he decides finally, and Vasquez's arm tightens momentarily around his waist. 

"Good," he says, "so do I."

"Hey, Vas?" Faraday asks now, it's just occurred to him there's something else he should say. "Sorry I've been such a pain in the ass lately. I'll be better about it, I swear."

Vasquez makes a dismissive noise, but then curls forward so he can press a series of kisses along the side of Faraday's face. "You are always a pain in the ass, guero," he says fondly. "Somehow it's part of your charm."

Faraday's not sure that's a good thing, but when he opens his mouth to continue on with what he was saying, Vasquez cuts him off with another kiss. He swallows down whatever words Faraday might be able to force out, not stopping until they're both short of breath and panting raggedly at each other.

"Go to sleep, Joshua," he says firmly and for once Faraday doesn't balk at being told what to do.

He settles down with his head pillowed on Vasquez's chest, enjoying the way he can feel the man's heart beating sure and steady beneath his touch. Morning's likely to arrive all too quickly at this point, so sleep does seem to be the way to go.

 


End file.
